


Looking for a New Life

by FernyMike



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Closeted Character, Cooking, Cruising, F/F, Gay Bar, Glitradora, Hook-Up, Photography, catradora, glitra
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:46:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26686114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FernyMike/pseuds/FernyMike
Summary: Seventies AU in which Catra travels to Seattle looking for a new life and makes a new friend on the bus. Inspired by "America" by Simon and Garfunkel.UPDATE 10/23: Project is currently on-hold due to a nasty bout of writer's block.
Relationships: (minor) Catra/Glimmer, (very minor) Catra/Glimmer/Adora, Adora & Catra (She-Ra), Adora/Catra (She-Ra), Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 55
Kudos: 169





	1. Chapter 1

Catra had been changing her socks when the bus driver announced: “Nine o’clock to Boise, bus thirty-one!” Catra loosely tied up her black Converse, hoisted her bag onto her back, and stared with contempt at the rain–the same rain that required a change of socks in the first place. She had been waiting to board at the very front of the line, so as to get a window seat at the very back, but the wetness of her feet became too much to bear. Now she waited just under the awning of the bus stop until the line cleared up, not wanting to change again.

She looked down at her ticket:

_SALT LAKE CITY to SEATTLE_   
_via BOISE, PORTLAND_   
_June 10, 1974 – 9:00 AM_

As soon as the last person in line boarded, Catra walked quickly to get on the bus, practically shoving the ticket into the driver’s hands as she went up the steps. There weren’t many people on the bus, but most of them had taken up entire rows with just themselves and their bags. Catra frowned as she debated who might be the best person to ask to move their stuff.

“Wanna sit here?” said a voice.

Catra looked to her left. A blonde woman with a kind expression was looking up at Catra and motioning to an empty seat.

“Sure, thanks.” Catra stowed her bag in an overhead bin and ungraciously plopped down in the seat, letting out an exasperated sigh.

“Rainy day, huh?”

“Yeah. I uh– I had to change my socks because they got all wet.”

“That’s why I wore these little ladies right here.”

The “little ladies” were a pair of bright red rainboots, into which were tucked the legs of a pair of jeans. Moving up the body, the woman wore a Beatles t-shirt, over which was a flannel jacket two sizes too big.

Catra took out her pack of Luckies and put one into her mouth. “Seventy-two degrees and a downpour in mid-June–and some people say Utah has no sense of humor.” That got a good laugh out of the woman, and Catra gave a slight smile in return. She padded her coat a few times. “Damn, I forgot my lighter.”

The woman took her own lighter out of her coat pocket. “I’ll light it if you’ll share it.”

“Deal.”

The woman lit the cigarette, then took it right out of Catra’s mouth, much to the former’s surprise and mild annoyance. “Adora,” she said, offering her hand.

Catra waited until Adora got a good drag on the cigarette before taking it back for herself, then took Adora’s hand. “Catra.”

The driver had by now gotten into his seat and announced that they were taking off. “We should get into Boise around two-thirty, have a half hour’s layover, then we’ll get on to Portland–should get _there_ around ten. Transfer to bus nineteen to Seattle, which should leave tomorrow morning around eight.” The bus made a horrible kind of slushing sound against the rain as it pulled out of the station.

“How far are you going?” asked Adora.

“Seattle,” said Catra. “You?”

“Seattle.”

“Really? What’re you going up for?”

“I’m from there, actually. I just finished college at the U, so I’m heading home now.”

“No shit–what did you major in?”

“Business, but my friends and I are trying to start a restaurant together. When I was a kid, I was always mixing different foods in pots and dumping in loads of spices” – Adora smiled at the reminiscence – “so it was decided that I would be a cook.”

“Decided? But do you like it, or…”

“Oh I definitely do! There’s nothing else I’m interested in as a job.”

“Right on.”

The pair fell into an easy, casual conversation for the next hour, then went about their own activities until it they pulled into the Greyhound station in downtown Boise. There was no rain, but there was a distinct chill in the air which rattled Catra’s bones. She had worn black high-waisted shorts, a black tank-top, and a blue hoodie that her aunt had bought at a Dodgers game–one of the rare shows of affection Catra had ever experienced–but it did little to warm her up.

Catra made a quick stop at a nearby store to buy a lighter and a coffee, both of which she consumed on the curbside near the bus. She was nearly done with both when Adora sat down next to her and put a paper-wrapped cheeseburger in her lap.

“Didn’t know I was a charity case,” said Catra, as she opened the wrapping and took a bite.

Adora scoffed. “Charity has nothing to do with it, I’m just being nice.”

Catra paused before taking another bite. She sighed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I never had much growing up–always fended for myself. I’m not used to people being nice.”

“Did you grow up in Utah?”

“Born and raised, sadly. Glad to be out of there.”

“What about your family?”

Catra thought about her aunt, a pernicious and horrible woman who Catra had always despised, who had raised her ever since her parents died. She could see her aunt’s pallid skin, long, dirty black hair, and garish wardrobe of red and purple clothes she rarely washed.

Catra shook her head before taking another bite. “They won’t miss me, and I won’t miss them,” she said. “What about your family?”

“I was raised by my grandma–mom wasn’t around very much, but she’s been writing to me a lot lately. Kinda wish she had been around when I was younger, but it’s okay–grandma has always been there for me.”

“I guess we’re kindred spirits, huh?”

“I guess so.”

They finished their burgers, then got back on the bus and sat in uneasy silence most of the way to Portland. Adora read through an intimidatingly long book while Catra poked through the most recent edition of _National Geographic_ –well, she mostly looked at the pictures. But not just because they were beautiful, but rather because she was a photographer herself, and hoped to glean some technical know-how and brilliance from the professionals.

Catra’s Polaroid SX-70 had been an expensive birthday gift from her friend Scorpia last October, and Catra had been careful to never show it to her aunt. Instead, Catra would sneak out early in the morning through her bedroom window to capture pictures of the sunrise and its effect on the surrounding area. That camera, and her portfolio of pictures wrapped in plastic, were her most valuable possessions, and with which she hoped to make her way in the world.

The sun set and took its light away as the bus entered the outskirts of the city, forcing Adora to put her book away–she had made considerable headway during the trip.

“How is it?” asked Catra, regarding the book.

Adora shrugged. “It’s alright. A little too dense for me, but I’ve had it for years and never read it, so I figured now was as good a time as any.”

“What’s it about?”

“A former criminal trying to lead a good life. I mean… its more complex than that, but that’s the gist.”

“Yeah.” Catra looked at Adora, who was looking out the window, as if the conversation between them was a secondary concern. “Look, I’m sorry about how I acted earlier–thanks for the burger, I really appreciated it.” Adora gave her attention back to Catra, an impassive look on her face. “Why don’t we share a room together at a hostel, and I’ll pick up your end.”

Adora waited a moment before a corner of her lip crept into a smile. “Fine by me.” She gave Catra’s arm a friendly nudge as she allowed her smile to grow a little bigger, and soon she and Catra were giggling like old friends.


	2. Chapter 2

The bus pulled into Portland right at ten o’clock. The women had spotted a hostel just up the street from the bus stop, and Catra and Adora quickly made their way over.

Catra approached the front desk. “Cheapest room ya got,” she said, leaning against the desk with one arm.

The clerk checked the logbook, then looked behind himself at a wall of hooks where the keys hanged–he grabbed the only key remaining and put it on the desk. “We have one room left, a single twin in the basement. Fourteen dollars even.”

Catra put on a good face but groaned in her mind–she’d managed to peel off fifty dollars from her aunt, half of which had gone towards her bus ticket. Catra was hemorrhaging cash and was unsure if she’d even have enough to stay somewhere the next night. She reluctantly paid up for the key, took it, and she and Adora made their way to the room.

It was a horrible, dingy space–six by eight feet; dirty gray carpet; a moldy desk with no chair; and a twin bed shoved against one of the corners. A single rectangular window with a crack in it was placed at the top of the wall facing the street, iron bars covering the outside.

Adora flicked on a switch, and a dim yellow light exuded from a dusty bulb in the ceiling, barely lighting the room. “I’ve seen worse,” she said, carefully setting her bag down on a small luggage stand hiding in one of the corners.

“Question is,” said Catra, “who’s gonna take the floor?”

“We can share the bed. I mean, if it isn’t a problem.”

Catra kept an impassive face as she said: “Not at all. Just a couple of gals being pals, right?”

Adora chuckled. “Right.”

The bathroom at the end of the hall was, shockingly, clean, and both women took their sweet time washing up. Adora had showered first, changing into plaid boxers and a gray tank-top; Catra kept on her black tank-top, but did put on a clean pair of black gym shorts.

_Just be cool,_ thought Catra, as she walked out of the bathroom towards the room. _Just face away from her and go the fuck to sleep_ _as quick as possible._

Adora was already laying in bed when Catra entered, locking the door behind her and turning off the light. She crawled onto her side from the front, and although both women were slim, it was a cozy situation.

“At least the sheets are clean,” said Adora, in what sounded like a forced casual tone.

“Yeah,” said Catra. “I guess it isn’t too bad.” She laid down on her side facing away from Adora. “Goodnight.”

“Night.”

Catra’s plan to go to sleep quickly was complicated by two occurrences. The first was that the image of Adora walking around the room in her pajamas replayed over and over in Catra’s mind, keeping her wide awake and hot and bothered. The second occurrence was that Adora was obviously wide awake as well, and eventually turned on her side to face Catra–that alone made Catra uneasy.

“I meant to ask on the bus,” said Adora, quietly, “do you have any family in Seattle?

“Kinda.” Catra also spoke quietly. “Something like an extended family.”

Adora paused a second, then asked something that Catra had hoped was coming. “A lot of girls?”

“You could say that.”

“Me too,” said Adora, and a smile could be heard in her voice.

Catra turned to face her, and even in the dark she could make out Adora’s bright blue eyes. “I guess we really are kindred spirits.”

It took only a second for Adora to lean forward and kiss Catra, who responded by pulling Adora on top and peeling of her shirt. Adora laughed and placed Catra’s hands on her hips, squeezing them gently so as to invite her to touch and feel to her heart’s content.

“Do you wanna,” said Adora, “ya know–”

“Yes please,” interrupted Catra. Adora wasted no time in taking off her boxers, and Catra quickly removed her clothes as well.

Catra eagerly yielded to Adora’s fast pace and firm touch, not because it was her preference, but because it had been so long since her last time with a woman. They went on in a heated, desperate way for some time until they were both spent and collapsed into the bed. Catra laid her head in the crook between Adora’s shoulder and neck, her body laying across Adora’s.

“Do you have any idea,” said Adora, rubbing Catra’s back, “how hard it was to keep my hands off of your beautiful little body?”

“Do you have any idea how badly I wanted your hands on me?” asked Catra.

Adora laughed. “That’s just how it is for people like us.” She reached for Catra’s cigarettes and lighter which were sitting on the desk–she lit one and took a drag, then passed it to Catra. “You get it where you can, and when you do, you just explode from how long you’ve had to wait.”

“How long have you waited?”

“A few months. You?”

Catra bit her lip, an uncertain look on her face. “A few years,” she finally said, quietly.

It had been a chance encounter during a trip to Los Angeles, a surprise for her eighteenth birthday. Catra’s aunt had sent her on an errand, to buy fruit at a store down the street from the hotel. Instead, Catra stopped at a van run by an older Latina, and, through a few words in Spanish now lost to time, they ended up in the back of the van. Catra had been given a good time and free fruit, and her aunt was none the wiser.

It had been her first time, and Catra never dared to go looking for another–until tonight.

Adora took the cigarette back and took a drag with a thoughtful look on her face. “You’ll like it in Seattle. Plenty of dykes for you to ooh and aah over, and it’s safe enough for–how did you put it?–two gals to be pals.”

Catra gave Adora’s thigh a playful slap. “Shut up, you dork.”

Adora snorted a few times, then started choking on the smoke from the cigarette, which only made her laugh more. They finished the cigarette, then drifted off to happy, satisfied sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wasn't comfortable writing a full-on sex scene - as a bi-dude, I want to be respectful of my LGBT sisters and not fetishize their relationships. I hope y'all can appreciate that!


	3. Chapter 3

The smell of coffee roused Catra from her sleep. She sat up and saw Adora standing by the bed, coffee in one hand and a sandwich in the other.

“Hey, Adora,” said Catra, with grogginess in her voice. “What time is it?”

“Seven-thirty,” said Adora. She put the food into Catra’s hands. “Eat and get dressed quickly—the bus will arrive soon.”

Catra did exactly that, then they checked out, and got to the station just as bus nineteen pulled in. The final leg of the journey had considerably fewer people than before, so the women sat at the back, each taking up a whole row to themselves, laying against their bags.

They talked pleasantly for most of the trip until they got to Tacoma, at which point Adora asked: “How long have you known your cousins?”

“Since junior high,” said Catra. “There was one– I forget her name, but she was really sweet and we hung out a lot. I don’t think her parents liked me very much though, cause they moved her to a different school after a year or two.”

“My grandma’s sister’s grandkid was the adventurous type—liked to go on all types of adventures. One summer, we went up to Mukilteo a lot, to smoke on the beach, stay out late and talk about… you know, whatever.” Adora blushed slightly and looked away, a small smile on her lips.

“What did your grandma think?”

“I don’t think she cared too much. She’s always been a ‘go with the flow’ type of little old lady—just knows that some things are the way they are and aren’t worth getting up in arms over.”

Catra couldn’t believe that any old person could “go with the flow” with queer folk. “I’d like to meet her one day,” she said, and meant it.

The bus pulled into King Street station about an hour later, and Catra took her first steps into her new life. She looked up the skyscrapers, across the street at the cafes and restaurants, and then up again at the sky—it was a clear, beautiful day.

Adora saddled up next to her, and said: “Lunch?”

Lunch was at a dim sum restaurant just up the street from where they had gotten off, and it was unlike anything Catra had ever seen. Dumplings of all different shapes, sizes, and tastes were put in front of her, and she had never tasted food so delicious. While Catra took her time to slowly and mindfully eat every last morsel, Adora wasted no time in shoveling whole servings of dumplings into her mouth.

“Jeez, Adora,” said Catra, recoiling a bit, “I know we didn’t have much on the trip, but slow down a bit.”

“I’m paying for this,” said Adora, “I’ll each as much as I want.”

Adora surely did pay for the meal, four-fifty in total, then she and Catra walked back to the main road.

“Do you have a place to stay?” asked Adora.

Catra shrugged. “I’ll find something—I still have some cash.”

Adora reached into her bag and took out a pen, then wrote an address on her bus ticket and gave it to Catra. “Don’t be a stranger—family needs to look out for each other.”

They said their goodbyes and Adora started to walk away, but Catra called: "Wait! Let me take your photo. Something to remember you by.” Adora stopped, then turned and walked back as Catra got out her camera. “Give me a nice big smile.” Adora laughed, and Catra took a shot—she showed it to Adora, who nodded approvingly.

“See you around, sweetheart,” said Adora, who hailed the first cab she saw.

Catra spent the rest of the day walking between different hostels, all of which she couldn’t afford with just ten dollars. With the sun setting, she paid a dollar for a club sandwich and fifty cents for bus fare to the arboretum on the eastern end of the city. The sun was setting when she found a section of the park with many tall and thick bushes, and made camp in a hole between two that formed a kind of dome. It was a cloudy night, but the weather was warm and the grass tall and soft.

“How the fuck am I gonna get by on eight-fifty,” said Catra to herself.

She took out the photo of Adora and stared at it for a long time, taking in all the details: the shape of her face, the depth of her eyes, the scrunch of her nose when she smiled, her blonde hair done up in a messy bun. Catra lightly kissed the photo before putting it in with the rest of her portfolio, then laid down in the grass to fall asleep, but that night with no one to hold her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter today, but the next one will be much longer!


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning, Catra went to a nearby creek where she sneakily washed her hair and face, then cleaned up a sock from the day before, wrung it out, and used it to wipe down the rest of her body. Then she walked out to Madison street and hitched a ride to downtown, and after more walking she arrived outside the offices of the Seattle Times.

It was a two-story building, made of a horrific mix of sandstone, concrete, and brown brick. A few men walked in and out of the building, all of whom had attire as visually unappealing as their workplace. A payphone sat outside the building opposite, and Catra put a nickel in and called the front office. A secretary answered and asked how she could help her.

“I’d like to speak to, uh” – she fumbled with a copy of a newspaper she had nicked off a homeless man – “Lux, Mister Lux, about an opening in photography.”

The secretary could be heard talking to someone else for a moment, then asked Catra if she could come in at eleven.

“That sounds good,” said Catra, not knowing how much time she had until then. The secretary put her in the schedule and then hung up, and Catra slammed the phone down and hurried to the nearest café to check the time––it was a quarter to ten. She bought coffee and a donut, then went outside to a bench to smoke but found that her pack of Luckies was empty.

“Damn,” said Catra under her breath, but she figured that it was best to not show up smelling like smoke. Instead she spent the next hour people watching, mostly women, though that made her apprehensive of her own attire. She had chosen red pants and a black top with a floral pattern––sub-par compared to what she saw other women wearing, but she knew that she’d be more fashionable than the newspaper folk by a country mile.

Catra returned to the building five minutes before her interview, and was led through a maze of desks, pillars, printers, and filing cabinets. The outside of the building was a Greek fresco compared to the inside: the walls were painted a plain white color, much of which was peeling off, the carpets were gray and coffee stained, and the thickness of cigarette smoke in the air was too much even for her.

She had just been seated outside a large office when an older man joyfully bounded out of it. He wasn’t much taller than Catra, but he was built like an ox and had an angular face, complimented by a well-kept black beard and long black hair. His gray pants and purple shirt added to an air of authority, but all this was offset by a small smile and sympathetic eyes.

He offered his hand. “Hello! It’s Catra, right?”

Catra gave what she hoped was a good handshake and said: “Yes. Nice to meet you, Mister Lux.”

“Call me Micah, please. And Catra––what’s that short for, Catherine?”

“Yes.” That was somewhat true. Her mother had named her Catarina, and her father had given her his last name, Vega, but Micah didn’t need to know the particulars.

They walked into his office, an equally drab and untidy mess as the rest of the building.

“I understand that you’re interested in working as a photographer,” said Micah. “Do you have some samples of your work?” Catra nodded and handed her bag of photos to Micah, who carefully took them out and began examining them. “The SX, right?”

“Yes.”

Micah breathed out a laugh. “Are you always this concise?”

“I had a strict family––learned to never say much.”

“My sister and I did too, _and_ I was in the army where there was a lot of ‘yes sir-ing,’ but that’s not how I run things around here.” He looked through a few more photos, spending a lot of time on one, little on another. “Where did you go to school?”

“I didn’t go to school.”

“Self-taught. What did you use as a guide?”

“National Geographic.”

“Interesting. I can see the influence.” Micah arrived at the last photo in the portfolio, and this one he spent more time on than the others. Eventually he smiled and chuckled slightly to himself, then carefully put the photos back into the bag. He stood up and said: “Grab your camera––let’s take a walk.”

They left the office and caught a bus up to Seattle Center, getting off right by the Space Needle. It was half-past eleven on another perfect day, and there was a fair number of people walking their dogs, talking on benches, or having picnics on the grass.

“Take some photos of whatever catches your eye,” said Micah.

Catra did just that as they walked in and around the entirety of the center, then they took the monorail to Westlake, and from their they walked down to Pike Place Market. Micah gave Catra a kind of mini tour of the area, pointing out his favorite food stalls and grocery vendors, then walked them to a small restaurant where he treated her to lunch. He ordered a large plate of deep-fried cod, grilled prawns, and half-a-dozen oysters for them to share, along with a plate stacked high with bread.

“Micah,” said Catra, “I really appreciate this, but I don’t know–”

“Don’t worry about it,” said Micah. “If you’re sleeping in parks, then you probably don’t have much money for food.” Catra went wide-eyed and blushed with embarrassment, but Micah put his hands up in mock surrender. “No judgment. I was a poor photographer for a long time and slept on a lot of benches––we need to look out for one another.”

“How did you know?”

“Your bag had grass stains, as do your shoes.” He leaned to the side and pointed his fork at Catra’s Converse. “Volunteer Park?”

“The arboretum.”

“Right on.” He asked Catra to lay her most recent pictures on the table. “Tell me about these––why did you take them?”

Catra starts with one of the Space Needle. “I liked the way the sun was hitting the Space Needle, half shadow and half light, and I wanted to get a sense of its height.” She had walked around it many times before finding exactly where it was divided into light and shadow, then laid on her back to make it seem as tall as possible. “This one, I liked the way the buildings created a kind of frame, and through that you could see the street rise up the hill and disappear.” This was between McCaw Hall and the Seattle Repertory Theater. “And this, well…” It was a picture of two women sitting on a bench and talking causally, laughing. “They just seemed like a cute couple– c-couple of friends.”

_Fuck_. That was all Catra could think as she looked out the window away from Micah––she had likely just outed herself, and now she was sure he would never give her any work.

Micah didn’t seem to notice Catra’s slip-up. “I think I like that one the best,” he said. Catra asked why. “Buildings and nature always present their most authentic selves, and don’t take _that_ much know-how to photograph. But humans put on their best faces when they’re being photographed––catching someone in a candid moment can be tricky. To that end, I think you accomplished that.”

Catra muttered a quiet “thank you,” then the pair finished lunch in silence.

They caught a cab back up to the offices, and Catra was made to sit outside Micah’s office as he made a rather long phone call and printed something out.

He walked out to meet Catra. “There’s a boarding house on Broadway and east Roy, run by a nice old lady. I called in a favor and she’ll house you for a few weeks until you find a place of your own.” He put a manilla envelope in Catra’s hand. “Open this tonight when you’re settled in.”

Catra thanked Micah, shook his hand again, and gave an unusually warm smile before being led out of the building by a secretary.

The boarding house was a two-story affair set right on the corner of where Broadway and Roy forked. On the steps was a black boy with a red shirt and blue jean shorts playing harmonica. Catra walked past him and into the house, where she was passed by a blonde white boy with a blue shirt and plaid pants.

“Be sure to come back before it gets dark, dearies,” called a voice from within the house. An old woman walked out of a door: she wore a long Mojave shirt over a red skirt torn at the edges, and she held a broom with which she seemed ready to strike. “Ah, you must be Catra.” Catra confirmed as much. “Madam Razz is always happy to help out the young folk of the world.”

Catra was led up the stairs to a small room with a twin bed, a desk, a closet, and a drawer. It wasn’t much, but it was a lot better than sleeping outside, or god forbid that horrible hostel she’d stayed in the day before. Razz excused herself and left Catra to unpack.

Catra wasted no time in throwing her bag on the bed and opening the manilla envelope. The thing she pulled out was a handwritten note:

_Catra,_

_It was a pleasure to meet you today. You have a keen eye and photographic sense, and I think you’d make a great addition to my team. Please complete the attached hire forms and come back on Monday at ten_ –– _I’ll find something for you to work on so that we can get you paid._

_Sincerely,  
Micah_

Catra felt her eyes start to water. She read the letter again and really began to cry happily. She dug out the other papers to find the mentioned hire forms, as well as ten five-dollar bills.

She went to bed happy that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really struggled with getting this chapter down - I hope y'all enjoy it!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just had a burst of inspiration and cranked this out in one go. Enjoy!

Catra spent the next few days exploring the Capitol Hill area, aided by an old bike which she bought at a garage sale for four-fifty. Every day she rode south on Broadway down to Yesler, then would walk back, stopping at various stores and talking with people, just to get a sense of her new home.

Home. Catra was still a stranger to this place, but it felt like home – where she had always meant to be. She smiled to herself as she walked back to the boarding house on Saturday morning.

Catra dropped off the bike and walked to a nearby library branch and browsed its offerings. She intuitively avoided the lengthier books and set her eyes on short stories and novellas. Never having been a diligent reader or knowing much about authors, she settled on a collection of works by someone named Gogol, just because she thought the name was funny.

It was then that Catra noticed someone watching her: a tall woman in blue jeans and a black leather jacket. She must have been confident, because she made no attempt to avert her gaze, instead oping to give a quick flip of the head and a smirk.

Catra wasn’t intimidated – she ambled over and coolly said: “What’s the good word, Prester John?”

“I was about to ask you the same thing,” said the woman, leaning against one of the shelves.

“Cruising in the library – that’s some game you’ve got.”

“Tough talk for a baby girl. Care to put your money where your mouth is?”

“I bet you’d like that, baby girl.” Catra put as condescending a spin as possible on the pet name. The woman smiled in approval at Catra’s wit, and the two walked out together after Catra checked her book out.

The woman introduced herself as Huntara. “You’re the new girl, right?”

“Am I?”

“It’s a tight-knit community here – it’s easy to spot fresh meat.”

That made Catra uneasy. “So what, you’ve been stalking me?”

“Nah, just a coincidence. One of my bar-mates saw you riding around yesterday and thought you were cute, and I recognized you from her description.”

“Which bar?”

“Grayskull – it’s on the corner of Pike and Eleventh. Why don’t you come by tonight?”

Catra said she would – in truth she was eager to become acquainted with the best queer spots. She and Huntara walked back to the boarding house where the blonde kid and his friend were playing dice, the latter of whom looked up curiously at Huntara.

“What are you looking at, tall hair boy?” said Huntara.

“Just one mean old dyke,” the boy said.

“Leaver her be, Gerald,” said the blonde.

“C’mon, Arnold – I already got the cops running me, I don’t need to be run by no woman dressed like a greaser.”

 _Bonk!_ Madam Razz had seemingly materialized out of thin air and delivered a hard blow to the boy’s head with her broom. “Be kind to your neighbors, dearie.”

Gerald grumbled, mumbled an apology under his breath, then stood up and walked away – Arnold gave a more sincere apology before walking after him.

“Good to see you, Huntara – how are you?”

“Just fine, Razz, thanks for asking.”

“I see you’ve met Catra – such a nice young woman.” Razz disappeared into the house before anyone else good get another word in, and Huntara left shortly thereafter.

Grayskull was a female-only bar, where a tall, handsome black woman stood at the door to make sure it stayed that way – Catra might have taken a moment to talk her up if she weren’t so imposing. But there was a chill in the night air which Catra wanted to get out of, so she went on in.

True to its name, the bar was gray – the floor was concrete, the walls were painted a kind of dark-gray color and stained all over, and the skull motif permeated in the art hanging on the walls. There was one long bar, around which tables and chairs were placed haphazardly, and patrons jostled for elbow room. This was not any kind of place for a decent drink or meaningful conversation – it was one for queer women to cruise for one another.

Catra noticed Huntara working the bar and made her way over. Huntara shook Catra’s hand as she took a seat. “You made it. What’ll you have?”

“What’ve you got?” asked Catra.

Huntara took lime juice, ginger syrup, and rum and shook it up together, then poured it in a tall glass. “Dark and Stormy, just like you.”

Catra rolled her eyes as she took the glass and sipped it. She wasn’t used to fancy drinks and found the flavor too complex, but she put on a good face and thanked Huntara.

“Nice place,” said Catra, as she took out a cigarette and lit up. “Good business?”

“There’s no other place in the area that’s girls-only – we get people from Bellingham, Tacoma, Bellevue, all over. So yeah, good business if only because there’s no other option.”

Catra gave a tilt of her head in agreement. “I know all about not having options.”

Huntara stepped away for a moment to help another customer, and Catra observed the crowd. There was a good mix of age and ethnicity, the bits of chatter she picked up seemed pleasant, and everyone looked to be in a good mood. It was a far cry from her own upbringing, fraught with tension and shouting of statements that couldn’t possibly be taken back once declared.

Catra wondered how her aunt was doing. Would she have noticed that Catra was gone? Unlikely – she would be glad to be rid of her, perhaps sad only not to have a target for her hand to slap. Catra shuddered at the memory, and she touched her cheek with the back of her hand, then took a long sip of her drink to wash the thought away.

“This chicana’s gonna need another drink soon,” said a black woman with short brown hair who had saddled up next to Catra.

“Knock it off, Lonnie,” said Huntara, who had come back over.

“Hey let me ask you something,” said Lonnie, speaking to Huntara. “Why did you give my bro a hard time today?”

“I don’t know, why did your bro have to be a prick?”

“The fuck you just say?” Lonnie was starting to push herself up onto the bar, an irritated look on her face.

Huntara was unphased as she leaned down to get in Lonnie’s face. “Want me to spell it out for you, buttercup? Your brother is P-R-I-C-K PRICK!”

The sound of crashing glass startled the nearby customers, and Lonnie stormed off. “Fuck you, bitch.”

Huntara shook her head. She looked at Catra, shrugged, then said: “Don’t worry, we’ll be friends again in a couple of days.”

That was more than enough excitement for Catra, who paid up for her drink and left. She stepped out into the chilly air, and was about to walk back to Broadway when someone spoke.

“Leaving already?”

Catra looked behind her and saw the bouncer from earlier – she was wearing dark jeans, a sleeveless black shirt, and had a Mariners jacket slung over her shoulder.

“I’ve had my fill for the night,” said Catra.

“Have you?” The woman took a few confident steps towards her, a winning smile on her face. “You aren’t up for a little more?”

Catra bit her lip as she took in the woman’s face, her arms, her everything. “Well… maybe a little bit more.”

They took the woman’s motorcycle to her apartment on the southeast side of town and Catra spent the night there. In between a bottle of wine and grabbed waists, Catra learned the woman’s name was Juliet (and was the friend Huntara had referred to earlier that day). She was by all standards an excellent fuck – being a little older came with sexual know-how – but something was off for Catra.

As good as Juliet’s touch felt – and it felt very good – Catra couldn’t help but think of Adora whenever she closed her eyes. Even when she was brought to climax over and over throughout the night, she had to catch herself from saying, no, screaming Adora’s name. Juliet drove Catra home the next morning and suggested she come by Grayskull again, but all Catra wanted was to relive the evening she shared with Adora.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone for the kudos and nice comments - it's really sweet :)
> 
> Also! For the purposes of an acceptable age gap, Juliet is maybe ten years older than Catra (who is in her early twenties) in this AU. Unless y’all are into much older people, like I am :P


	6. Chapter 6

Monday couldn’t have come soon enough. Catra practically skipped off the bus and into the office where Micah was waiting for her. There was another woman with him, about Catra’s age, though she had long ponytails and baggy black and white clothes on.

“Catra, nice to see you again. I’d like you to meet Entrapta, one of our up-and-coming food critics. I have a list of establishments which I’d like for you two to visits. Catra, a few photos of the inside and outside, and maybe one or two of the employees if you think they’re up for it.”

The first visit was to a café on the corner of Queen Anne Avenue and Roy, adjacent to the MarQueen Hotel. It had taken two buses and thirty minutes to reach, but the smell of coffee and fresh pastries made Catra believe it was worth it.

“Welcome to Mystacor Café,” said a barista behind the counter. “What would you like?”

Entrapta looked at the display case. “I want anything that’s tiny,” she said, excitedly. “And a tiny coffee – the tiniest size you have!”

The barista offered a bemused smile, then asked Catra what she wanted.

“Just a black coffee, and uh” – Catra stole a glance at the display case which Entrapta was still gawking at – “that sandwich looks good, so maybe that?”

The barista put their orders in, then the two had a seat. The café had a charming aspect, with a black and white tile floor, a cherry baseboard, and walls painted a nice cream color. Catra found it odd that she and Entrapta were the only customers there at nine o’clock, since it was the nicest place she’d seen since her residency.

Entrapta pulled a large voice recorder out of her bag and set it on the table. “Nine-o-two in the morning, Monday June seventeen, Mystacor Café. They have many tiny things, which makes me happy – always a good start to the day.”

“What are you doing?” asked Catra.

“Oh! I like using a recorder because then I can just listen back to it later.”

Catra cocked an eyebrow “You carry that thing around with you?”

“Well yeah, why not?” Entrapta did not seem offended by Catra’s judgmental tone of voice.

Catra said nothing, and their food was soon brought over, giving her something else to focus on. She snuck a couple of photos when the barista wasn’t looking, then took one of the outside when she and Entrapta left. They took a bus and then walked to the pier where they visited the next establishment, _Salienas_.

A man dressed like a sea captain greeted them enthusiastically as soon as they opened the door. “O-ho, how find thee, fair travelers? I am Seahawk, and I will take you to your table.”

“Sean,” called a voice from out of sight, “please calm down.”

“Sorry Mermista!”

They were led to an outside table overlooking the pier, and Seahawk made a quick getaway as Mermista came outside.

“I’m here, don’t make a big deal about it,” she said, laying two menus on the table. “Sean gets very excited over… anything, I don’t even know why.” Mermista looked at Catra. “You’re the new girl, right?”

“Everyone seems to think so,” said Catra.

“I can see why Juliet likes you.” Mermista looked back at Entrapta. “The usual?”

“The usual” was a dozen pieces of deep-fired squid, two dozen tiny tater tots, and a Coke in a tiny glass. Catra just ordered fish and chips, then left the table to smoke and take some pictures. Mermista walked over to her just as the cigarette was finished.

“What’s your story, newbie?”

Catra flicked the butt into the water, then leaned against the railing. “Kicked out of the LDS for being a munt-diver.” She took out another cigarette, then thought to give one to Mermista – she lit both up. “You?”

“Modesto – token bisexual _and_ brown girl.” Mermista grimaced. “Walked out to ninety-nine one morning, got picked up by Sean, and we eventually made it up to here from Sacramento.” She glanced behind her shoulder to see Entrapta walking towards them. “Looks like her geekiness is all done.” Mermista took a last drag and stubbed the butt on the railing. “See you around, I guess.”

Entrapta and Catra shared a cab back to the office. “When’s the next reservation?” said Catra.

“Seven,” said Entrapta, “on Capitol Hill.”

Catra smiled to herself. “Perfect.”

_Bright Moon_ was on the northwest corner of east Pike street and 12th avenue east – prime real estate for the area. At only seven it was already packed with a plethora of characters, none of whom could be described as heterosexual. Entrapta and Catra were led to a small table towards the back of the restaurant, right by the door to the kitchen – it looked to have been barely cleaned and it wobbled from side to side.

They had just sat down when Entrapa yelled, “Hi Glimmer!” to someone behind Catra. The woman came over to their table, and she was young and exceptionally pretty – a bob of auburn hair with purple tips, cloudy blue eyes, and a round body worthy of worship. She wore a light blue skirt which reached just above her knees, and a flat-pink button-up with black moons dotted all over.

“Entrapta, nice to see you,” said Glimmer, in a tone that belied her sense of surpise. “Who’s your friend?” Catra introduced herself as Entrapta’s colleague. Glimmer’s eye twitched slightly as she put together why the two women were here, and it looked as though a mental safeguard had been broken. “Would you excuse me for a minute?” Glimmer left and walked into the kitchen, and the door had barely swung shut when the muffled sounds of her yelling began.

“Who the FUCK put Entrapta at table twelve? … How did you not recognize her, are you fucking stupid? … Get out of here…. I don’t give a shit about your excuses – fuck off!” Glimmer came back out a minute later, red in the face but reasonably composed. “I’m sorry, it looks like _someone_ sat you at the wrong table – please follow me.”

They were led to a much larger table by a window, right at the corner of the wall and the glass – a shorter wall stood parallel to the restaurant wall, giving the table a sense of privacy. A bottle of wine was brought by one of the staff, shown to Entrapta, then poured out for the pair. Catra had no idea that working for a newspaper meant getting the VIP treatment – she was tempted to ask for a cigar and moist towelette.

“I’ll have Bow look after you personally, okay?”

“Do you mind if I…” began Catra, as she took out her Luckies. Glimmer responded by taking a lighter out of her shirt’s pocket and lighting Catra up, then took her leave. “Is it always like this?”

“Glimmer can be pretty intense sometimes,” said Entrapta. “She has very high standards, and her feelings seem to be hurt when they aren’t met.”

“High standards for a high-class lady – I dig it.”

“Dig what?”

Catra gave Entrapta the smallest smirk as she took a drag and blew smoke out her nose. She shook her head. “Nothing.”

The rest of the evening progressed very well. Entrapta and Bow (a tall, muscular black man with a fun-loving demeanor) spoke at length about Entrapta’s new voice recorder and other goings on. Their food came out perfectly: chicken breast with risotto for Catra, and a selection of tiny entrees for Entrapta. Glimmer walked past every so often to keep an eye on things, and had visibly relaxed once she saw how the pair enjoyed the food. Catra watched how Glimmer’s hips swung as she walked, and had half a mind to take that princess home and treat her like a queen.

“How was everything,” asked Glimmer, as the plates were being cleared away and dessert menus opened.

“Great as always,” said Entrapta, with as big a smile as ever.

Glimmer offered her own sincere smile. “Good to hear. _The chef_ would like to bring the desserts out personally, if that’s okay.”

Their desserts were brought out soon thereafter, and Catra wanted to melt into her seat when she saw who was bringing them.

“Hey sweetheart,” said Adora, grinning lustfully. “Nice to see you again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glimmer always struck me as a Gordon Ramsay type :P
> 
> EDIT: Originally wrote that Mermista was black, but a reader pointed out that her ethnicity may be Indian. I couldn't find a reliable source for this, so I settled on Mermista labeling herself as brown - that is say she could be black, Indian, Hispanic, etc. I hope that's okay with everyone!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another burst of inspiration! Here's the obligatory background chapter in italics :P
> 
> Also, can someone drop a comment explaining how to do em dashes when uploading? I can only ever do hyphens :'(

_The call comes in the late evening, as a rainstorm is starting to dissipate._

_“Hello? … Yes, speaking…. Both of them? … Yes…. I will come immediately.”_

_Sharon Weaver walks into the Provo Police Department right at eleven, bathrobe still on but a light jacket pulled over it. She’s directed to a holding room where Catra is waiting: there’s bruises on both arms and a bandage around her head, but Weaver is told she’ll be alright. She’s taken to an adjoining room where an officer debriefs her._

_“It was at the interchange of three-hundred and one ninety-nine,” explains the officer. “The car hydroplaned into the intersection and was struck by a semi on the driver’s side – the father died instantly, the mother died before she got to the hospital. I know this is a lot to take in, but you’re that little girl’s only family in the immediate area, and it only makes sense that she should go with you, at least for now.”_

_Weaver bears the news with a stoic face – she knows better than to cry in public, in front of strangers._

_Catra is taken to the hospital where she stays for a few days. Breaking the news to her isn’t easy: she cries, she screams, she throws things around the room, and all the attending nurse can do is watch. Once her bruises have healed and she’s controlled her temper, Catra goes home with Weaver. The house is small, with one bed and bath, a small kitchen, a living room, and a basement._

_“It’s not much,” says Weaver, who’s taken Catra to her makeshift bedroom in the basement, “but try to make yourself comfortable.”_

_Catra nods, gives Weaver a quick hug, then goes to lay on the bed facing the wall, still as a statue. Weaver watches her for a moment, then leaves her._

_Years later, Weaver comes home to find two pairs of shoes at the door. She sighs, then walks to put her groceries down in the kitchen._

_“How many times,” she says, all in a tizzy, “do I have to tell that girl – no friends can visit without my permission?”_

_She walks down to the basement and is just about to open the door when she clues into the sounds coming from other side: crying. Catra’s crying. Weaver carefully places her ear against the door._

_“Come on, get it all out,” says a voice._

_More crying. “I– I miss them,” says Catra. “It’s been four years and I still miss them.”_

_Weaver is taken aback by that –_ has it been four years? _Then she remembers that today is the anniversary. Catra had just turned ten when it happened, finishing elementary school, and now she’s finishing junior high. She returns her focus to the conversation._

_“I know you do. I still cry when it gets to the date my mom died.”_

_Catra stops crying, instead sniffling a bit. “You- you do?”_

_“Yeah. It’s hard, but life goes on, ya know?” There’s a rustling sound from inside the room – Weaver assumes the other girl has moved in for a hug. “I’m here for you, Catra – I promise.”_

_“Promise?”_

_“Promise.”_

_Weaver walks back up the stairs._ Had she ever really mourned her sister? _They may not have been blood, but they were as a close as close can be. She sits in a chair in the living room, a thousand-yard stare across her face. She tries to cry, but nothing comes out. Her focus turns to a bottle of Hennessy on top of the television – she tries to fight the urge, but it overtakes her and she pours herself a glass, then two, then three, until she’s passed out in the chair._

_“Where are you going?”_

_Catra stops with her hand on the door. She sighs, then says, “To meet some friends.”_

_“Come here please.”_

_Catra walks into the living room. It’s a fucking mess – empty bottles of Hennessy on the floor as well as other junk, clothes scattered all over, and a gentle air of dustiness lingers. Weaver is sitting on the coach, dressed in a purple bathrobe that hasn’t been washed in who knows how long._

_“I have something for you,” says Weaver. She pulls out a small, unwrapped box from behind the couch and gives it to Catra. She cocks an eyebrow at her aunt but opens it anyway – sitting inside are two tickets for a Dodgers game. Catra looks at her aunt wide-eyed, but Weaver doesn’t seem to notice. “Consider it a… very late present for your eighteenth.” Catra closes the box, then looks at the floor as she mutters a ‘thank you.’ Weaver waves her away. “Run off and have fun with your friends. Oh, and be a dear and-”_

_“Get another bottle from Dak,” says Catra. “No problem.” Catra turns to leave, but Weaver can see the slightest smile appear on her face as she leaves._

_“Did you enjoy the game?”_

_They’re back at their hotel in Boyle Heights – they stay in the area because its cheap and Catra is fluent in Spanish._

_“I did,” says Catra. “Thank you for the trip, Weaver – it’s been a lot of fun.”_

_Weaver smiles for the first time in as long a time as Catra can remember. She lies on the bed and says, “Would you be a dear and run down to that little market and buy some fruit for me?”_

_Catra says she will, then takes a quarter and heads to the street. She notices a large, empty lot down the way, managed by a Latina who is maybe mid to late twenties. Catra walks over, and her breath is taken away by the older woman’s beauty, especially her long black hair._

_“Buenas tardes hermana,” says the woman. “¿Qué te gustaría?”_

_“Buenas tardes,” says Catra, somewhat unevenly. She surveys the fruits. “Dos melocotones, por favor.”_

_The woman takes two peaches and puts them in a paper bag but doesn’t give it to Catra. “Tengo una especial para ojos marrones y bonitos,” the woman says, smoothly. “Compre una, obtenga una.” She gives opens her mouth into a smile and givers her upper teeth just the slightest lick with her tongue._

_It takes less than a second for Catra to realize what’s happening. She should think this through –_ should she really do this? _Before she knows it, she’s being led to the back of the lot towards the woman’s truck, looking over her shoulder to make sure no one is watching._

_“What took you,” asks Weaver, curious rather than annoyed when Catra returns._

_Catra puts the bag of fruit in Weaver’s hands. “The cashier was chatty.”_

_The sun has just risen as Catra climbs out of the window of her bedroom, overnight bag in tow. She’s careful to stay out of sight of the living room window, and she walks herself to a house a little down the way. Hordak is waiting for her, already in his truck smoking a cigarette._

_“Are you sure you still wanna do this?” he asks, as Catra climbs into the passenger side door._

_“What do you think?” She buckles her seatbelt and leans back into the seat._

_Hordak says nothing as he starts up and truck and pulls out onto the road, driving off into the early morning. They ride in silence until they hit the outskirts of Salt Lake City. “I think you’re doing the right thing,” he says, out of nowhere. “Getting out of that shit town.”_

_“I wish I had gotten out of there sooner.”_

_Hordak sighs. “Me too.”_

_They pull up to the bus station. It’s seven in the morning – the bus doesn’t leave until nine, but there’s already a few characters with their own bags hanging around. The promising sunrise has given itself over to overcast, and some dark clouds seem to be coming in from the north._

_“How much were you able to get off your aunt?”_

_“Twenty-five.”_

_Hordak reaches into a pocket and takes out another twenty-five and gives it to Catra. “Look, I know it’s none of my business, but don’t remember your aunt too badly. She… she did the best as she knew how to – not that it was good, but she tried.” Hordak searches Catra’s face for any reaction, but she’s stoic and unemotional. He smiles and ruffles her hair. “Good luck in the big city, little sister.”_

_Catra’s façade breaks as she begins to cry and leans over to take Hordak into a long hug. “Thanks, Dak. You were- you were always like a father to me.” Hordak ruffles her hair again, pats her back, then watches as Catra takes her bag and leaves his truck. He drives off, watching Catra and bus stop fade into the distance in his mirrors._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation, because people will ask:  
> "Good afternoon, sister. What would you like?  
> "Two peaches, please."  
> "I have a special for pretty brown eyes - buy one, get one free."  
> (Note: there's an old convention in the Latin community to call your ethnic-kin "hermano (brother)" or "hermana (sister)" regardless of age.
> 
> TO BE CLEAR - Catra is 18 at the time of her hook-up with the fruit lady. Catra's age was stated in chapter 2, but I wanted to restate it here for clarity.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yet another burst of inspiration!

Catra woke up Saturday morning with a pair of perfectly shaped breasts in view. She rubbed her eyes a few times, then Adora’s sleeping face came into focus. Catra sighed, then laid back down in bed, one arm falling over the side.

It was the second time in a week that she had stayed over with Adora – first on Monday after they ran into each other at _Bright Moon_ , and again last night after tacos and tequila at _Rogelio’s_. Catra couldn’t afford all these evenings out, but she didn’t mind so long as she was with Adora.

She closed her eyes and thought of what had happened Monday night, Adora pushing her into a bathroom stall at _Grayskull_ with a kiss after a few drinks. The play was just as heated and desperate as their first time, and Catra was eager to please.

Adora’s mouth was at Catra’s neck when she said: “I heard you had some fun with Juliet last week.”

 _Ah man_ , thought Catra. _Not this shit again._

One of Adora’s hands stroked Catra’s cheek in a patronizing fashion. “I was a little jealous – I don’t want you to be anyone else’s café de olla.”

Catra shuddered at the pet name, then shuddered again as Adora’s other hand roamed around her thigh. “You don’t seem like – ugh! – the monogamous type.”

Adora laughed evilly. “I know to lock down a good girl when I see one.”

In the present, Catra quietly got up and threw on some of Adora’s clothes, an old work shirt and a pair of boxers, then walked out to the kitchen to make coffee.

Glimmer was already there, casually dressed and pouring over various bills and checks from the night before. She barely noticed Catra entering. “Thanks for closing the door this time.”

“Thanks for not interrupting,” said Catra. It had been an awkward occurrence that Monday evening, having Glimmer stand in the hall and yell ‘keep it down!’ and then slamming the door. Catra opened the fridge and took out some milk, then set up the coffee machine. “You don’t have any of that Starbucks stuff, do you?”

“I wouldn’t know – I don’t drink coffee.”

“You don’t? I guess I’m not the only Mormon in this house.”

“Either that or Rastafarian – fifty-fifty chance.”

The coffee finished and Catra sat down at a small table in the small kitchen. She eyed Glimmer – it was nine in the morning, but she had put herself together with makeup, hair, the works. Catra and Adora weren’t a sure thing yet – if it didn’t work out, maybe Catra could–

“Are you going to keep ogling me or say your piece?” said Glimmer, her head still buried in her work.

Catra took a slow sip as she kept her eyes on Glimmer. “Are you family?”

“That desperate to jump back into bed, huh?”

Catra chuckled. “Just asking, princess.”

Glimmer put her work down and looked at Catra, and the latter was quite unnerved. Glimmer’s face was impassive, but there was a calculating look in her eyes, and Catra felt like her mind was being sieged down one cell at a time.

“Bi,” said Glimmer, after a moment. “Always have been, but I didn’t realize it until I was in college.”

“I bet you were quite popular.”

Glimmer laughed. “Not really. No one’s ever willing to put up with a bitchy bottom, let alone one with standards.”

“Like what?”

Glimmer narrowed her eyes and put on a fake smile. “I don’t date photographers.” With that, she went back to scouring her papers, and Catra took that as her cue to go back to Adora.

The blonde was awake and reading a book when Catra returned. “I heard Glimmer – did you say hi to her?”

Catra sat in bed next to Adora, handing her a cup. “Kinda. She’s something else.”

“Isn’t she? Tough boss but a visionary, and a good friend. She’s desperate for us to get a Michelin Star.”

“A Michigan what?”

“A Michelin Star,” said Adora, with a laugh. “They’re awarded to great cooks and restaurants all over the world. Getting one would be a big deal for us, and the family.”

“I bet.”

Adora put her coffee down, took Catra’s and did the same, then pulled Catra into her embrace. “What’s it gonna take to get you to talk more?”

“I don’t know. I’m bad at all this conversation shit, always have been.” She leaned her head into Adora’s hand, who began to stroke Catra’s hair. “Growing up, I didn’t have a lot of friends, and the few I had were never over. Auntie wouldn’t let them over unless she was home, and when she was home she never wanted them over. And auntie wasn’t one for conversation – she was more interested in getting herself a television and drinking Hennessy straight out of the bottle. I never even told her that I was leaving – just decided one evening that I was done with Provo, packed my shit, and the next day I hitched a ride to Salt Lake and bought a bus ticket.” Catra let out a long sigh before tilting her head up to Adora who was smiling down at her. “What?

“Man, that’s more words than you’ve spoken in the last two weeks.”

“That’s the most I’ve spoken in a year.”

Adora laughed, then tilted her head down to kiss Catra’s forehead. “You’re tough. You’ve endured so much, yet you still found a path for yourself.”

“You’re tough too.”

“Nah.”

“I’m serious, Adora – raised by your grandma.”

“It wasn’t hard like you though.” Now Adora sighed and tilted her head back to rest in a pillow. “Dad died in Korea when I was a baby, but he had a life insurance policy and mom never loved him much – I don’t remember him at all, really. Mom was always distant, but smart – she put most of the money in a college fund for me, and the rest she spaced out as best she could. One day, when I was twelve – I think? – mom dropped me off at grandma’s saying she couldn’t take care of me anymore, that she didn’t have enough money. I haven’t seen her since.”

“That’s horrible,” said Catra, quietly.

“It’s alright. I was always closer to grandma anyway, remember? She was always cool with people like us, never asked about staying out late with a girl or anything.”

A switch flipped in Catra’s mind. “The woman I’m boarding with is just like that.”

“Oh yeah,” said Adora, with a growing smirk. “What’s her name?”

“Razz.” Catra looked on in horror as Adora burst into laughter.

“Looks like you’ve met grandma.”


	9. Chapter 9

“What the hell is this?”

Catra had her hand on the door to Micah’s office when she heard a familiar voice from inside. She turned to look at Micah’s secretary who quickly shook their head – no one wanted to interrupt a standoff, not on a Monday. Catra took the hint and instead stood by the door and listened.

Micah’s voice spoke next. “I was just trying to help–”

“By only giving us two paragraphs and no photo - are you fucking kidding?”

A long silence, then a defeated sigh from Micah. “Honey, please–”

“You won’t help me because it’s a conflict of interest, now you’ll help but won’t give me a fair shake. What kind of sense does that make? Why are you going back and forth like this?”

The door abruptly opened, and a bob of auburn hair bumped into Catra’s chin. Catra stepped back and took in the huffy form of Glimmer. She was typically red in the face, breathing loud and deep, and a less-than-friendly scowl had a home on her face. It was unfortunate, because she wore a cute purple sundress, her makeup was on-point as always, and a light layer of red lipstick made her lips ever more kissable.

Glimmer cocked an eyebrow. “What is _she_ doing here?”

Micah came out of his office and offered a quick hello to Catra, then said to Glimmer: “This is Catra, our new photographer. Catra” – he tried to offer a polite smile – “this is my daughter, Glimmer.”

Catra looked between the two –the physical resemblance was obvious, but it was hard to believe that this sour apple had fallen from such a sweet tree.

“We’ve met, actually,” said Catra, trying to ease the tension. “At Bright Moon, and we have a mutual friend in Adora.”

Glimmer snorted. “You have a funny way of making friends.”

Now Micah turned on Glimmer and leaned in close. “Knock it off,” he said, in a harsh, whispered voice. “You can run your kitchen like a tyrant if you wish, but I won’t tolerate that attitude towards my staff.” He leaned back up and pointed to the entrance. “Go – we’ll talk about this later.”

Glimmer stepped away from the two of them. “Photographers,” she said, disdainfully, then turned on her heel and stormed off, hips swinging and all.

“I hope you’ll forgive my daughter,” said Micah, as he waved Catra into his office. “She gets her… let’s say spirited demeanor from her mother.”

“It’s alright,” said Catra. “I already got a taste of it the other day.”

Micah chuckled. “Everyone does eventually. Frankly, I’m amazed that she and Adora have been friends for as long as they have, let alone live together – did Adora tell you that?”

“She might have mentioned it,” said Catra, coolly. She sat in the chair opposite Micah and crossed a leg. “You had a job for me?”

“Yes. I assume you’ve heard that the gay community is putting on a pride week in Seattle. They’re opening a community center on sixteenth avenue tonight, and I want you to go out there and see what it’s about. Take some pictures, talk to some folks, and write up a short blurb for me.”

“Like a reporter?”

“Pretty much.”

“But why?”

Micah leaned back in his chair and stroked his beard thoughtfully. “I think you’ll get on with them – the community, that is.”

Catra bit her lip nervously and gave a small nod. “Well,” she said, standing up. “I’ll finish my work up here and head over tonight.”

There was no doubt that Micah knew. The question was what he might do with the information.

Catra headed over to the center later that evening. In the lobby was a slim, androgynously dressed individual with a crop of blonde hair and bright green eyes. They had a nametag which said: “Call me DT – I am neither he nor she.”

“Hey there,” said DT, enthusiastically. “Welcome to the Seattle LGBT Community Center! What’s your name, darling?” Catra introduced herself, then DT flipped through a guest list. “Hmm, I’m not seeing it here.”

“From the newspaper.”

“Oh of course!” They flipped back a few pages. “I see you now – someone put you down as Kat, but not with a C like cat, with a K like kitten.” They gave Catra’s shoulder a pat and smiled. “Wouldn’t that be a cute name for you?”

Catra narrowed her brow a bit, then said: “Let’s take it slow – I don’t want to wake up pregnant.”

DT smirked. “As you wish, darling. Follow me please.”

They both walked into a large room with a concrete floor, cream-colored walls, and a tall ceiling. A couple hundred people were in attendance: some stood, others sat, but they all spoke happily with one another. Various tables stood against the walls, manned by different member s of the community promoting their own venues or causes.

Unsurprisingly, Huntara was at a table promoting community restaurants and bars – Catra walked over to her.

“What’s the good word, baby girl,” asked Huntara.

“Working,” said Catra. “The paper needed someone to check this thing out.”

“They must be short-staffed if they sent you.” Huntara continued before Catra could think-up a retort. “You and Adora are a thing now, huh?”

“That’s news to me.”

“Am I wrong?”

“We’re only gal pals, not roommates.”

That got a good laugh from Huntara. “If you’re posting up with Adora, then you’ve probably met _Her Royal Pain in the Neck_.”

Catra pursed her lips and nodded slowly. “She’s a piece of work.”

“And a piece of ass.”

“Won’t argue with that.”

Huntara took a moment to talk with some folks who had come up to the table, and Catra took the opportunity to capture some photos of the event. It was odd to see so many queer folk out-and-about, being their authentic selves - not hiding in the shadows.

“You should bring Glitter to Grayskull sometime,” said Huntara.

“She doesn’t seem like the outgoing type.”

“Tell her I’ll give you guys drinks on the house – but only if you bring her.”

That alone was enough for Catra to commit to the endeavor.

“Absolutely not.”

Glimmer had been sitting in her living room Friday evening when Catra had sat with her and asked about going to _Grayskull_. The rest of pride week had passed by with Catra running all over downtown to various events, often running into DT and Huntara, the latter of whom kept asking after Glimmer.

“C’mon princess,” said Catra, teasingly. “Free drinks isn’t enough for you?”

“No,” said Glimmer, firmly. “I don’t go to bars.”

“You mean those kinds of bars.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“It’s what you meant.”

Glimmer folded her arms and stuck her nose up.

“You run a great joint that caters exclusively to the family, but you still have it out for us – why?”

There was a minute of silence. “It’s not like that,” said Glimmer eventually, quietly.

Catra waited a minute before suggestively saying: “Huntara will be there.”

That got Glimmer’s attention, but she seemed to realize that she had revealed her interest and feigned disinterest. “So what?”

“Don’t you want to see your friend?”

“She’s not my friend.”

“Oh yeah?” Catra leaned in to be just a few inches away from Glimmer’s face. She licked her teeth lustfully and said: “I guess you’d rather be her lover.”

Glimmer blushed deeply. “F-fuck you.”

“Ooo! Are we messing with Glimmer?” Adora had appeared out of nowhere but walked over to Glimmer and began massaging her shoulders.

Glimmer bit a lip and leaned back into the couch, putting a hand on Adora’s – not to move her away, but to keep the hands where they were. “Both of you are- hmpf! are- mpfh! the worst.”

“Come on, princess,” said Catra, now nearly pressing her nose against Glimmer’s and stroking her arm. “She just wants to treat you like the queen you are.”

“Stop!” Glimmer came back to her sense and jumped out of the couch. “If I go with you, will you knock it the fuck off?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glimmer is a haaaaaaawt mess :P
> 
> I had originally placed the story around the first Seattle Pride Week in 1974, but the focus shifted to more of a Catra-centric story instead.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't mind me as a casually upload a 2k chapter. FYI, this one has some feels :'(

_Grayksull_ was busy as ever that Friday evening, and it was only by a miracle that Catra and Adora found a table to stand at. Glimmer made her way to the bar instead, appropriately dolled up – light-blue jeans, a black shirt spattered with white suns, and a light but detailed layer of makeup. She went directly to the side of bar where Huntara was working at, and Catra and Adora watched the proceedings with interest.

Huntara smiled. “Hey sweetheart, nice to see you.” She poured a small glass of bourbon and put it on the counter. “How’s the restaurant?”

“Fine,” said Glimmer. She took out a cigarette, and Huntara instinctively took out her lighter to set it off. Glimmer took a drag, then said: “The lunch service is iffy, but we’re always packed for dinner and the rent is low.”

“Still after that star?”

Glimmer cocked an eyebrow. “What do you think?”

Huntara chuckled. “Inspections are starting soon. Word is an inspector is coming to the area.”

Glimmer squinted, disbelieving. She took a sip of her bourbon, then flicked away some ash. “What would you know about that?”

“A lot. I guess they’ve taken note of a hardworking little lady.”

“Are you going to tell me anymore?”

Huntara leaned on the counter with an elbow, and still she was a head taller than Glimmer, who didn’t look away. “Only if I can get a second drink at you.”

They stood off like that for a moment, Glimmer squinting and Huntara grinning. Even through the makeup, a deep blush was developing on Glimmer’s face and her breathing had sped up. Eventually, Glimmer nodded, and Huntara made up an Old Fashioned with a plethora of cherries.

Glimmer took a sip. “This is _not_ because I like you.”

“Whatever you say.”

They settled into a friendly enough conversation, so Catra and Adora ceased their observations.

“How much longer are you at the boarding house,” asked Adora.

“Another week,” said Catra. “I haven’t started looking for places.”

Adora looked visibly uncomfortable for a moment. “Why don’t you move in with me?”

Now Catra looked uncomfortable. “With you? As roommates, or… ya know?”

A little bit of both, I imagine.” Adora smirked and a little wink.

Catra nodded in the direction of Glimmer. “What about Sparkles?”

“I don’t think she’ll mind paying lower rent. And she doesn’t mind you, not as much as she lets on anyway.”

Catra was about to ask how Adora knew that when she was bumped from the back.

“Oh my goodness,” said a voice, hastily. “I’m so so so so sorry, let me just-”

A tall, broad woman with silvery gray hair stood before Catra. It took only a moment for the woman to smile and bring Catra into a tight hug.

“Wildcat!”

The three of them, seeing Glimmer in good hands, left the bar and walked up the street to a small eatery.

“What are you doing in Seattle,” asked Catra.

“My family has a house in Sandpoint,” said Scorpia. “Remember, the one that had the scorpion infestation? I talked about it in show-and-tell in third grade.”

“I must have skipped that day. But what are you doing, like for work?”

“Oh yeah, that! Well uh- you see…” Scorpia rubbed the back of her neck. “I may or may not have met this hippie, and gone on a cross-country spirit quest, and opened a plant nursery with her.”

Adora, a few drinks in, snorted at the prospect, but it was not out of the ordinary in Catra’s mind. They talked for a while longer until Adora left to check in on Glimmer.

Scorpia took on an anxious look. “Hey, there’s something I need to tell you – about your aunt.”

Catra felt a tension rise in her chest. “What about her? Is she looking for me?”

Scorpia looked away for a moment. “No, she uh…” She looked back at Catra and sighed mournfully. “I’m sorry, Wildcat, but… she’s gone.”

Scorpia arranged for she and Catra to fly down to Salt Lake City the next evening, where they stayed with Scorpia’s cousins. Early the next morning, the two drove down to Provo in an old pickup truck, and after an hour they pulled up at Hordak’s house. It was one of only two houses on a dirt road outside of town, the other being Catra’s old home further down the road.

“Do you mind staying in the truck?” said Catra.

“Not at all, Wildcat,” said Scorpia, with a smile. “It’s all you.”

Catra got out and walked up to the house, a one-story building with a tiny, dead tree in the front that may have once provided shade. The house was white, but it was covered in dust and dirt that had accumulated over the years. Catra would have knocked, but she could see the front door was opened a crack, so she went ahead and pushed it open.

“In the back,” called a voice – Hordak’s voice.

Catra stepped in. “You’re already up?”

“Who else would come by this early?”

Catra entered a small living room adjacent to the kitchen – she saw Hordak sitting comfily in a big armchair. “You were expecting me?”

“Expecting who?”

“You were–” Catra paused, then made a face when she saw Hordak’s look of amusement. “You’re messing with me.”

“What gave you that idea? My mind’s slow ‘cause I haven’t slept too well this past week.”

“You were too excited to see me again,” said Catra, matching Hordak’s sarcastic tone.

“Something like that.”

A silence passed between them, until Catra asked: “How you been, Dak?”

“As good as one can be, in Shit Town Utah.” Hordak looked Catra up and down, noting a certain glow to her face despite the circumstances of her return. “You look to be doing better, now that you’re a big city girl.”

Catra gave a small nod in confirmation, then went into the kitchen. “Still keep your coffee behind the sink?” Hordak said he did, and Catra retrieved it and started up the kettle – Hordak only ever made cowboy coffee, not wanting to risk having a proper machine in his house. Catra took a deep breath in and out, calming herself for when she asked: “When did it happen?”

“A few days after you left. Your aunt came over here thinking I had something to do with you up and leaving. She wasn’t feeling too good, so I took her to the hospital in Salt Lake, where she passed away that evening – liver failure. Before she went, she told me that she wasn’t too concerned about you, that you were gonna be alright wherever you had run off to.”

“Surprised to hear that.” The water had come to a boil, and Catra made two cups of strong coffee, gave one to Hordak, then took a seat on a couch opposite him.

“I know you and Sharon had your differences,” said Hordak, “but it wasn’t ‘cause she didn’t love or care about you. She never wanted marriage or kids – never saw the point in it - then all the sudden she had to step up and become a parent to a kid that wasn’t hers. I don’t think she ever really figured you out, let alone herself and what she wanted to be to you.”

Catra shook her head slightly. “I wish she had told me as much while I was still here. I was never bothered by the drinking, the sternness, or the night shifts – I just wanted someone to talk to.” Catra laughed to herself. “Can’t count the number of the times I snuck a friend in through the basement window – not even to talk, just to have them around.”

Hordak smirked. “That’s a funny way to put it.”

Catra gave a disapproving look. “You know what I’m about, and never judged me for it – don’t start up now.” She took a sip of her coffee, then looked away from Hordak out a window: it was low enough that Catra could faintly see the old house in the distance, once inhabited but now empty.

“Did your aunt ever tell you why she stopped going to church?” Catra turned her attention back to Hordak, and he continued. “There was that whole business with you and that girl when you were fifteen, and her family raised all kinds of hell with the church. Your aunt went to the bishop here and talked with ‘im for a long time, until they made some kind of arrangement.

“I never heard the particulars, but she got herself blacklisted from the church and had to work at the gas station instead, all the while keeping you in line around girls, so to speak. Your aunt sacrificed a lot to protect you from the community around here - she gave up her job, her friends, her faith even. Like I told you before, don’t remember your aunt too badly, if only ‘cause she never thought badly of you.”

Catra had no reply to that. It was such an intense revelation that just stared into her cup for a long time, and nothing more was said between her and Hordak.

The party drove over to the old house, which had been left in Hordak’s care on account of his good standing in the church. Catra was unsure of how Hordak managed that, but she figured it was best to not ask.

They entered, and it was cleaner and tidier than it had ever been before. Hordak had been in-and-out cleaning up the house, organizing and boxing things, throwing away junk, and had sold most of the furniture.

“College kids can’t resist a good deal on a stained armchair,” Hordak said. He took a ten out of his wallet and gave it to Catra. “Don’t spend it all in one place, sis.”

Scorpia and Hordak stayed upstairs while Catra went down to her room in the basement. Hordak must not have touched it, because it was in the same state as when Catra had left a few weeks ago. Her small, unmade bed stood in one corner, next to which was a shelf with some personal items, as well as a few National Geographic magazines. There was nothing else of note in the room: such had been Catra’s state of privation for so long. She took the magazines and went back upstairs.

“Is that all you’re taking?” said Hordak.

“Yeah.” Catra looked around the living room, glancing at each of the boxes. “I can’t imagine there’s anything of my aunt’s that I’ll want. What will you do with it all?”

“Donate it to the church or sell it - I’ll send the money your way if I do.”

Catra shrugged. “Don’t worry about it – you’ve already done enough for me.”

The women exchanged hugs with Hordak, then drove back to Salt Lake City to catch their return flight. It was short and uncomfortable, as Scorpia seemed to want to say something the whole time but always thought better of it. It wasn’t until they had landed at SeaTac and were hailing a cab that she spoke.

“How are you feeling, Wildcat?”

“All this time I thought she had it out for me because I was a troublesome queer fuck-up. But she could never tell me that – it was never a secret that we shared. She protected me for years, but I didn’t know that I had to protect her too.” Catra rubbed away some tears. “She was a better mom than I ever gave her credit for.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wanted to give Shadow Weaver her fair shake in this au: she wasn’t a baddie, just didn’t how to be a mother-figure. 
> 
> For anyone who’s interested, Catra and Hordak’s convo is based off of “No Country for Old Men” when Sheriff Bell talks with his cousin, Ellis.
> 
> Also, am I the only one who likes the Glitter/Huntara pairing? Glitara?


End file.
